


Pretty Paulie

by 1JettaPug, orphan_account



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So you lift your dressYou wanna impressThere's one thing I've got to confess
Relationships: Peter Criss/Paul Stanley (KISS)
Kudos: 15





	Pretty Paulie

“Wow, Lydia’s got quite the wardrobe…”

Paul pulled out an expensive black leather jacket and tossed it aside, not at all bothered by the fact he was rooting through his boyfriend’s wife’s walk-in closet. Lydia was out in Manhattan shopping with her friends, so of course the minute she left, Peter called up the Starchild to invite him over to their Brooklyn apartment. He had nothing in particular planned for the two of them, although he was sure at some point he’d have Paul bent over the couch or bed. Maybe they could order Chinese food or dance around to loud music and annoy the neighbors with the noise. Paul didn’t care, he was just happy to escape his parents’ house for the day. 

“Yeah. Broad’s bleeding me dry…” Peter watched as Paul tried on a white beret and sunglasses. He flung a floral scarf around his neck and struck a pose for the drummer, strutting out into the bedroom and back like a model. Peter chuckled, “Y’know, ya don’t look half bad, toots.” 

Paul removed the clothing items, a smile on his face as he continued to rummage like a child playing dress up. 

“I’m gonna get a beer.” Peter left for the kitchen. His younger bandmate may have been a handful sometimes, but he never felt so at ease, so composed when they were together. All he and Lydia seemed to do lately was fight, and while he and Paul had their fights as well, they were nowhere near as bad or violent. Lydia was a stubborn Italian woman, just as stubborn as her husband, but Paul...he obeyed Peter’s commands, he could be reasoned with. He was the perfect partner, and Peter didn’t give a shit if it was cheating or against the law. It just felt right.

He poured his beer into a glass before leaning back on the kitchen counter, sipping and calculating how long he and Paul would have together before Lydia returned. 

_She better not fuckin’ bring her friends back with her again...obnoxious bimbos. I’ll kick their asses straight out._

He could never be sure with Lydia’s friends. They might come back for a drink and spoil his alone time with Paul, then they’d _really_ feel his wrath. 

The drummer got so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice his lover stood in front of him, giggling and excited. Paul had completely removed his clothes, now adorning a long flowing mustard coloured dress. It was striped, the sleeves ending at his elbows and the skirt at his shins, and they twirled majestically as he did a spin for Peter.

“How do I look?” Paul smiled shyly. Peter looked down at the Starchild’s bare feet, his toes painted black to match his fingernails. His eyes traveled upward, admiring how the dress hugged his hips and how his hairy chest peeked out of the low V neck. Although, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that and his equally as hairy legs. Was he _joking?_

Paul frowned at Peter’s raised eyebrows and lack of a response. The drummer had to admit he liked what he saw, but...it was also strange as _hell_. He never thought he’d see a man wearing a dress, let alone be attracted to one.

“What? You don’t like it?” The younger man pouted.

“I uh-...”

“What?”

“I just-...Did you sneak into my wife's closet and grab that thing so I could fuck you in it?” 

Paul didn’t say anything. That wasn’t what he originally had in mind, but he liked the idea very much. He turned, giving Peter a seductive smile over his shoulder as he walked forward and planted his hands on the wall.

"You tell me." He bent over, the material of the dress stretching tight across his ass, and Peter gave up any notion he might have had of questioning his reasoning.

He approached the guitarist, stopping right behind him and sliding a hand under the dress.

“Tell me how I look.” Paul purred. Peter leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth while he moved his hand higher.

“You look like a slut,” The drummer told him, and Paul’s breath hitched. “Like you’d be willing to hike up that dress and let me do whatever I want.” He slid his hand around to the front of Paul’s leg, moving it upward until he could feel-- “Holy shit, are you wearing that garter, too?”

“Maybe~" Paul giggled, pushing his hips back until his ass was against Peter’s crotch. The Catman could try and pretend he wasn’t madly turned on by the sight of the Starchild in a dress, but the rock hard erection pressing against Paul’s behind said otherwise. 

“Christ, you're such a _fag_.” Peter murmured. "Do you like wearin’ this?"

Paul gave him a moan. “I like wearing dresses every now and again.” He breathed. “I like how they feel..."

“Yeah? So, is this gonna become a regular thing now?” Peter reached down to undo his belt and fly, letting his pants drop to the floor. He then pulled down his briefs, the only thing separating his cock from Paul’s ass being the slippery material of Lydia’s dress. Peter pushed against him harder, pre-cum dampening the skirt. He liked that, liked the idea that he was going to fuck that dress up before they were even done.

“Depends~”

“ _Depends?_ C’mon, Paulie.” Peter nibbled his good ear.  
  
“Well, it depends how much _you_ like it~” Paul told him, giving Peter that kind of look that made the drummer want to grind up against him during interviews. He bit Paul’s neck, whispering, “Whatever,” into his delicate skin.  
  
Paul giggled; he was so used to Peter deflecting. “Where’s the lube? I want you to fuck me against the wall, just like this.”  
  
“I’ll get it, I’ll get it. Fuck, you’re so needy.” Peter reluctantly moved back from his lover and hurried over to the coffee table, digging out a fresh bottle. When he glanced behind him, he could see that Paul hadn’t moved an inch. He was just standing there with his forearms against the wall and legs spread wide, looking back at Peter. Fuck, Peter hadn’t even managed to get his own shirt off yet, but he was in too much of a hurry to care.  
  
He sauntered back and pulled the dress up enough to fully expose Paul’s ass. Try as he might with all his dieting, but it was still sticking out, perfect for a nice firm spank from the drummer. That’s exactly what he got, letting out a loud whine in response.

When Peter pressed his first slick finger inside Paul, the rhythm guitarist gasped, spreading his legs even wider. Peter fingered him roughly, knowing full well that Paul really didn’t need this part to be gentle or delicate, despite his whining from their previous hook-ups.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. That’s good,” Peter coaxed. “You like this, don’t ya, slut?” He reached around to grasp Paul’s cock, stroking him with the same rhythm that he was using to finger-fuck him. Peter fell in love with the sensation of wet satin and lace against his palm, and from the way Paul’s hips stuttered forward, he liked it, too.

“Alright.” The drummer slid his finger out, then leaned forward to mouth at that same spot on Paul’s neck that he had bitten earlier. He could perfectly feel his dental impressions against his lips as Paul swallowed in anticipation.  
  
Peter tried and failed to press his cock into Paul, the angle too awkward for penetration. He grunted impatiently, pulling Paul’s hips back and bending him over.

“Short people problems?” The guitarist giggled.

“Shut up.”

The tight heat almost stole Peter’s breath away. He pushed in slowly, listening to Paul’s uneven breaths, followed by his low, needy moans. Peter didn’t stop until his thick cock was all the way in, filling his partner to the limit.

He reached down to smooth his hands over the material of the dress, hiking it up further and twisting it in his hands. Paul was still wearing that sinful garter, although it was more hanging around his kneecap by now. Peter began fucking him, moving his hips slowly at first, then speeding up when Paul hissed out a low, “Yeeesss~”  
  
“You look so fuckin’ hot, baby.” Peter panted in his ear as he fucked him deep. “In this little fruity dress and garter… _Fuck,_ Paulie… So good...” Peter thrusted into him harder, his thighs slapping obscenely against Paul’s ass. “You’re just a fag for my cock, aren’t ya?”  
  
“I love it!” Paul cried out, “Oh, I _love_ it, Peter!” His chocolate brown eyes fluttered shut and his mouth opened wide, the side of his face pressing against the wall as the older man continued to snap his hips and hold his lover firmly in place. Peter smacked Paul’s ass, the sound echoing through the kitchen and enticing the Starchild to lift his leg. The Catman held it up, giving him a better angle to hit Paul’s prostate.

“Yeah...Yeah, that’s it. That’s good, ain’t it, kitten?” Peter huffed, loving the sound of the guitarist’s loud whining mixed with his own low moaning, “ _Fuck_ , I gotta see your face...Wanna see your pretty little face when I cum in you.”

Without warning, Peter slid out of Paul’s wet hole, still hard as a rock as he flipped his partner around to face him. The guitarist whimpered when they made eye contact. Both men were gasping for air, but that didn’t stop Peter from licking into Paul’s mouth. He wrapped his muscular arms around Paul’s hips, lifting him up against the wall and earning a squeal of surprise in response.

“Oh, Papa...You’re so strong... Be careful.” Paul wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist, hooking his feet and pulling him closer. The guitarist honestly couldn’t care less if Peter hurt him or not. A little rough loving never hurt nobody, as the drummer always said.

He traced the cross tattoo on his lover’s upper arm with his finger, gasping when he felt Peter’s cock prod at his entrance again. He wiggled back down onto it with his bandmate’s help, and licked his lips, “Mmm… So thick...” 

He grabbed and stroked the drummer’s grey hair as Peter lifted the dress and began to bounce him, losing all sense of pacing. The Starchild’s long eyelashes, his plump lips, his big sad eyes… Just the sight of him alone could send Peter over the edge in mere seconds. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Paul panted, bucking against Peter’s thrusts, the warm sensation in his tummy building up. “ _Haa!_ Harder!”

The Catman dug his fingers into the dimples of Paul’s ass, using all of his remaining strength to fuck up into him and circle his hips. He knew his younger lover loved dirty talk, but he could hardly speak from the immense pleasure, only letting out low-pitched grunts as Paul pleaded with him to go faster

“So good, Paulie. So good... Pretty Paulie...”

The guitarist reached underneath the dress to stroke himself, pulling Peter forward with his other hand to kiss him over and over again. The taste of booze mixed with his own cherry chapstick was a flavour Paul never wanted to stop savouring, but as both the men’s climax drew nearer, they inevitably had to pull away for air.

“ _Yesss!_ Don’t ever _stoooppp!_ ” Paul cried, squeezing his eyes closed, “Oh, Daddy!”

Peter pinned his lover against the wall with his hips, his hands at either sides of Paul’s head as his thrusts turned wild and unhinged, finally tensing up and cumming hard inside him.

"SHIT!" He cursed, jerking upward slowly and allowing all of his release to empty into the Starchild who was still chasing his own orgasm.

Only seconds later did it hit like a shockwave, pulsing through Paul’s body and making his legs tremble around Peter’s waist.

“F-fuck…” He sighed a breath of relief, feeling the drummer begin to soften inside of him. “That was _amazing_ , Papa…”

“You’re tellin’ _me_... _Fuck_...”

The shorter man pulled his now flaccid cock out from Paul before letting him down from the wall, his arms aching from holding him there for so long. It was a hell of a good workout, he had to admit.

The guitarist smiled, closing his eyes and leaning back in a state of pure bliss. Lydia’s dress was soaked from the waist down, but that wasn’t his problem. He trusted Peter could wash it himself or come up with some excuse before she returned home.

“Look what you did to my wife’s dress.” Peter chuckled, tucking his length back into his jeans and zipping the fly. 

“Look what _I_ did? Honey, that was _you._ ” Paul giggled and smacked him playfully on the arm. They shared gentle kisses before Peter lifted the guitarist up and carried him off towards the bed. Acting tenderly for the first time all day, he laid Paul down like a princess and joined him at his side. Pulling the covers over them, he held Paul close, letting the singer rest his head against his chest, their legs automatically intertwining with each other. Paul wrapped his arms around his Catman, the drummer’s too sore to move any further.

"You can do a whole set, but holding me against the wall exhausts you?" Paul teased him.

"Shut up." Peter mumbled, lightly running his tongue over the guitarist’s plump bottom lip. Feeling another kiss on his eyelid, cheek, and then his neck, Paul let his head fall back on the pillow, humming in response to Peter's affections.

"I love you, too."


End file.
